Emotions, Emails and Now Blogs

On the topic of firing off an email (and now a blog) in the heat of passion, I have been finding out that the recipient(s) can read it totally different from how it was intended. It has been so difficult for me to become a kinder, gentler typist. Evidently, my keyboard fingers go faster than good common sense. Now I am learning I should type it, read it, spell check it, save it for an hour, or maybe a day, sleep on it, then make a decision on whether to send it. Never send an email when your head is spinning [especially when your eyes are rolling back in your head] and you are thinking "I will just fire off a response to bam, bam, bam ..." Oh yeah, cc to a whole herd of friends, families, church members, office workers, -- YIIKKKESS.

It's hard to read into the emotions meant by the sender, you know? I might be just lightly sarcastic, but I come across as "hard and single minded". Just trying to describe this kind of dilemma is almost impossible. I may be trying to be sweet, darling little Mary Poppins, but you may be picturing...



... Composing furiously away. My keyboard spewing forth, scary, bile, stuff that sometimes, ... don't we all, wish I could call back. Picture - trying to be cute, deft, particularly quick with words and instead something like this appears...

(An Aside-- I'm reminded here that Jack Handey always said that if you drop your car keys in a hot lava pool; forget em' man, they're gone.)

So for those of you who have not gone down the fiery lava tube of scorching words and injuring tender unprepared eyes, I gotta say go easy on your friends. Think before you tap on those lethal keys. Sleep on it. That's what I will do now.

OH No, I'm back-MC

Free Lunch and The Birth of MC's Religiosity

Almost thirty years ago Frank and I, as young marrieds, grudgingly attended the Trail Lake congregation on occasional Sundays. We had both been brought up (just as babies) at West Berry Church of Christ on University Drive, and then at Trail Lake Church of Christ (we were age 5 when our families moved here). West Berry and Trail Lake were the poster children of the old-time 3 songs, a prayer, 1 song, communion, 1 hour sermon, invitation, song, alter call, finish song with no center aisle. Trail lake built our Altamesa congregation in 1976.

We often came late from our apartment in Arlington to Sunday services, just to get a free lunch from Frank's parents, who were the best in-laws anyone could ever have. Now, at this time we didn't have our own faith, but were attending out of a sense of guilt and a (well-enforced) fear of fire and brimstone creeping up on us. Our life style went on for several years, with little commitment from us.

Something changed though -- we had Stacey! Suddenly, we felt a need to bring her to Sunday School and introduce her to Jesus. It was also lots of fun to have all the church members tell us how cute and special she was. We became regular members and began searching for our own faith. (A free Sunday lunch was still a plus.)

Then along came Wade and Patty Weaver, and Ron Beasley, our Youth Minister. We became high school huddle leaders and suddenly realized that we needed to know more about the Bible. We had Bible studies so we could teach the high schoolers. We started to pray earnestly, and developed life-long friendships. Our family grew as Trey and Travis came along and we became a blessed family.

Needless to say, here we are. We've got three independent kids out in the world, a wonderful son-in-law, super-duper grand-daughters, and a baby grandson. Also during all these years the Altamesa congregation has done some incredible growing in wisdom and truth, which has been wonderful to experience. I have to say that we run very, very hot and sometimes a little cold as we seek the right balance with our love of Altamesa, but Jesus remains a constant at the center of our lives.

Family, Pictures, Cars and Sounding Old

On taking pictures. I do it. I get in the way doing it. It's because I have found lots of pictures of ME as a very young child at my parent's house. I have at some times doubted my existence as a well-loved child. Well, finding those old black and white pictures put a concrete seal on my parents adoration of ME at many times in my life.

Childhood and growing up is not always easy and sweet for anyone, but grabbing a snapshot of yourself and a barefoot neighbor with your feet in the grass, along with your dog Talco feels real good. You can say "remember when ...... " The ice cream man, a soap box derby car that ran away, kick-the-can, trick or treating the entire neighborhood, cowboy and indians every afternoon, the flypaper strip by the backdoor, the sheets hanging on the line, sleeping in a hammock cause it was cooler outside ...

So here's the deal-
+Pictures of your kids
+Pictures of your parents
+Pictures of yourself (the mom will never be in the picture cause she always has the camera)
+Pictures of all your cars (that 1955 light blue Oldsmobile 88 was really bloated looking)
+Pictures of your yard, front and back, and your house too
Can you dig it.

Another issue is family genealogy and family reunions. OK, don't get sullen with me. My grandmother, Emma Christine Swanson Retzlaff (1888-1977), worked to keep her husband's family tree up-to-date since the Retzlaff Family Reunion began to meet in 1947. We have many albums of pictures and can trace back nine generations of Retzlaffs. She typed (on a typewriter) and maintained photographs of every year's additions, marriages and deaths.

See Grandmother

Your genes are cool.
My grandmother was cool. (you can see what has continued---

Click for Retzlaff Family History

This is all I've got to say for now. So jump on me.

Welcome to my world

Won't you come right in?

Yes, you are in the mellow mid-world of my existence. It can be quite bleak and quite marvelous. You can hit the peak of peaks and the lowest of valleys.

You are in for a magic carpet ride.

So pull up your crazy boy recliner, watch HOUSE, M.D., with me and we will diagnose the world and what's wrong inside my bloggen.

The only thing I know for sure, is I am not the walrus, KOO KOO KA CHOO.